Let It Rain
by Ellie 5192
Summary: "He's not sure if this is the next step, or merely a public display of something forged years ago, and for a few glorious moments, he doesn't care." Follows Optimism Is The New Black. Can stand alone. A/R one-shot. Episode tag for Lay Down Your Burdens II. New Caprica is happy, and so are Bill and Laura.


**Let It Rain**

He hasn't seen her for over a month, and is shocked to find she hasn't changed a bit. He thinks it might be because he knows Laura; knows what she's like when she's barefoot, pyjama-clad and giggling. He was one of the lucky few who ever got to see her without the President's mask, and though he sees no trace of her former office in her stance or movement, he sees Laura in everything. She's glowing, and he can't look away.

"Civilian life suits you" he says lightly from her doorway.

Her tent really is the broom-cupboard she once described to him, but it's relatively warm, and she has a wooden floor, and he can see that she's making it a small home for herself.

"Bill" she says, turning and smiling, though she's not shocked enough to be completely taken by surprise. She finishes folding the jumper she's procured, tossing it at the end of her bed.

His hands are clasped in front of him, and he's dressed in his uniform, and the softness of his look and his crooked smile belay all that. She turns fully, dropping her shoulders and grinning at him, and his barely-there smile turns toothy, and hers does too.

"What brings you to this part of town, Admiral?" she asks, almost cheekily.

He's only been to the planet a handful of times, and only while working, so there's never been a chance to see her. She's been equally busy, setting up an administrative base for the education system, and training Maya and a couple of other young people how to teach. She knows she's invaluable. She also knows that for this to be sustainable she must become replaceable. They've each been hearing about the other through the ever-present grapevine, but their work had always come first, and she's not so naïve as to think that would change now. Especially now.

"Thought I'd check out your digs" he says, unclasping his hands and swinging them into his pockets, quirking his eyebrow.

She laughs at him lightly and holds her hands out, presenting her humble abode for his perusal. He steps fully inside, swinging his eyes around dramatically, which makes her laugh some more, before looking at her, stopping his stride almost too close to be considered appropriate. Her smile remains.

"You look good, Laura" he says lowly, his eyes kind.

"You don't look so bad yourself" she replies with a grin, running one hand down the front of his uniform lightly.

They don't touch like this normally, though there have been moments when they've done more. He thinks perhaps a month was the perfect amount of time to stay away; long enough for her to get her bearings, and for him to truly and thoroughly miss her. He knows he's obvious, and he just doesn't care. What shocks him, though, is not that she's so clearly aware of why he's here, but the ease with which she leans in and touches her lips to his.

They stay that way for a heartbeat, just touching, him in her space, her hand on his chest.

He takes the hint and applies the barest of pressure, kissing her back, his hands coming up to cup her elbows, her hands moving to rest against his collar. Both of their eyes close of their own volition. They kiss that way for what feels like days, and he'd be happy to go no further if only they can keep doing it. Eventually she pulls away, only slightly breathless, looking him dead in the eye.

"I've missed you" she says softly.

"Obviously"

She unsuccessfully smothers a laugh at that, pursing her lips, her fingers twitching where they still rest half on his collar and half on his neck. They are both aware that without the entanglement of their old positions they are free to do whatever they like, but the lingering sense that it won't always be this simple, coupled with a healthy dose of mature hesitance, keeps them at an impasse. She won't kiss him again. He won't step away. They end up holding each other for a long while, his hands travelling from her elbows to her shoulders, and finally down to rest against her ribs.

She steps into his arms, and feels his hands slide across her back as she does the same. The hug is more than friendly, less than suggestive, and she wonders if they will always be like this. She'd like to think not, but can't help but feel like this is all they need, or perhaps al they can handle. There is a boundary she's never sure they will be ready to cross, and she can't think of what it will take to finally push them over the edge. Anything else couldn't possibly mean more than this anyway, surely.

He feels her sigh, a contented little hum building in the back of her throat. He buries his face in her hair and just breaths. She smells like Laura.

"You want to see my school?" she asks, enthusiasm seeping in despite how relaxed she's become in his arms.

"I'd love to"

He pulls away from her reluctantly, smiling. She returns the look, but turns timid under the intensity of his gaze, and she closes her eyes against his hand as he softly tucks a stray hair behind her ear.

"Lead the way, Ms Roslin"

His teasing tone is not enough to break the spell she's floating under. She opens her eyes slowly, as though blinking in slow motion, a lazy smile ghosting across her face, before she finally focusses back on him. He can only watch in fascination.

She takes his hand and pulls him from her tent towards the schoolhouse they're in the process of setting up. She doesn't let go when they see other people, and she doesn't allow more than a few inches between them at any moment, and he thinks it might be the next step but he can't be sure. The big steps were never clear between them; his apology was only confirmation of a truth already acknowledged; his grief at her near-death merely an outward reminder of a realisation made long before. He's not sure when they first started communicating as Bill and Laura, titles forgotten. He doesn't remember what it feels like to dislike her. He's not sure if this is the next step, or merely a public display of something forged years ago, and for a few glorious moments, he doesn't care.

Tightening his grip on her hand he brings himself level with her, walking side by side, and she looks at him from the corner of her eye, grinning, and it doesn't much matter what this is. It's wonderful.


End file.
